


Deeper Than Words

by starsoverhead



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-21
Updated: 2012-08-21
Packaged: 2017-11-12 14:33:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/492230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsoverhead/pseuds/starsoverhead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Another anon prompt on Tumblr:  Reid is on his keyboard piano, trying to compose a song for Hotch</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deeper Than Words

He wasn’t a poet. He was much more of a technical writer. Just ask anyone who had read his theses. Analyses, details, descriptions of methodology - those were his specialties. So when the idea had come to him to write a song, lyrics had never entered into the equation.

Yet, music had never been as much a part of his life as words. He had spent so much of his life embroiled in words. From his mother’s literature to all of the books he’d read over the years. His mind was full of words. Pushing himself to learn to make music had been an interesting exercise, but now to take on the job of composing…

Staring at the staff paper he’d propped on the music stand, he wondered if he’d bitten off more than he could chew. It wasn’t the idea of writing music that was so intimidating. It was his chosen subject matter.

So he had turned to the classics for inspiration. He had spent hours at the Packard Campus for Audio-Visual Conservation listening to orchestras, operas, and ensembles with his eyes closed, fitting memory and emotion to the music. Some didn’t fit and he could feel it immediately, but others were written down and found on CDs so he could bring them home.

Unlike his theses, the composition took time. He sat at his keyboard, testing and trying every note until it was just right. He had to include the gravity of the Toccata and Fugue in D-minor by Bach, the grief of Handel’s Sarabande, the reverence of Chesnokov’s Spaseniye Sodelal, the love in Sparke’s Lento from the Dance Movements - and he had to do it all without feeling like Roger in Rent; as if the only song in his mind was a variation on Musetta’s Waltz.

It was harder than any profile he’d ever had to give.

And yet, when he closed his eyes, forgot himself, and just played it one night while Aaron sat in silence and waited, he could see each moment that had come to mind while he’d written. From anger to joy, the love and trust that had grown between them.

Aaron had kissed his fingertips when he was finished, had lavished him with praise, and their lovemaking that night was sweet, slow, and thorough. As he drifted to sleep with his head on Aaron’s shoulder he knew that no matter what else he did in his life, the composition was very nearly his magnum opus, second only to the love he’d built with the man of his dreams.


End file.
